


Till ambition do us part.

by Deezaster82



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:12:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deezaster82/pseuds/Deezaster82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Transformers IDW RID #16 as it will definitely not happen! <br/>Starscream is a selfish jerk whose actions are driven solely by ambition. Metalhawk is an altruistic pacifist who thinks he knows better. Why, aren't those two the perfect match?<br/>MH/SS one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Till ambition do us part.

“You came back for me?!” Starscream shouted above the noise of laser fire and chaos.

“Of course, you are my friend,” Metalhawk replied, looking frantically around since it was the only thing he could do to dodge the beams of energy coming their way.

And Starscream stared, dumbfounded. 

They had been friends, alright, but that was before Metalhwak decided that Starscream couldn't be trusted. A wise decision all in all, he had been planning things behind his back, nefarious things too, and then Megatron happened.

And his plans were far worse.

“I thought...I thought you'd turned against me,” he reminded his 'friend' curtly.

“That is not how friendship works,” Metalhawk retorted, or tried to, but the words were lost in a scream when a lucky shot ripped his arm off.

“A pacifist and an opportunist run to hide in the shadows,” Turmoil commented with a malevolent smirk, his gun still fuming.

“Opportunist.” Starscream repeated, words were not his forte, but he did know how to bid his time, “I like that, Turmoil. You're not the first person to call me that, but I like that.” Discreetly, he moved his hand toward Metalhawk's severed arm.

“Things with opportunists...” the seeker closed his claws around the cooling metal. In one movement, he was up on his feet and brandishing his friend's arm like a weapon, “...They never miss an opportunity!” That should have been his motto, he thought half-consciously. He brought the makeshift 'sword' down on the biggest Decepticon and the sharp edge of the wing sticking out at the member's wrist penetrated Turmoil's armor, right through the spark casing. 

Wow, he had been lucky.

“Starscream!” Bumblebee shouted at a small distance from them. The little mech was busy holding Megatron's back, conveniently aided by a few other Autobots and Dirge. “Get him to safety and come back with actual weapons!” 

Normally, Starscream would have reminded the little yellow mech that he didn't take orders from Autobots. But for the time being, that didn't seem like a sensible thing to do.

Without a word, he lifted Metalhwak in his arms as carefully as he could and took off in the general direction of the infirmary.

The poor mech was barely conscious, the seeker realized upon looking down at the neutral's dimming optics. He was heavily damaged and leaking a great deal of energon from his wounds, mainly from the gaping hole in his abdomen. Starscream concluded he would probably not make it.

“Staarrr...Khhh...khhhh” Metalhawk tried, his head lolling about on Starscream's bent arm. The seeker craned his neck and tilted his head toward his friend's, as to better hear what he wanted to say. Those would probably be his last words.

Metalhawk's trembling helm jerked up and all the warning Starscream got was an equally trembling hand pushing down on his helmet weakly, then there was the faint touch of lips on his own.

He almost forgot how to fly.

The neutral's head rolled back down against his arm as he finally fell into stasis and Starscream knew he had to speed up if he didn't want to see his 'friend' dying on him.

He didn't dwell on what had just happened, this wasn't important, not when fire was raining around them, not when Megatron still had a possibility to gain control of the planet.

Shortly, Starscream arrived at the infirmary where a hundred of wounded mechs stood- or lied- waiting in a row. The medics fussed about, their hands covered in energon and grime, doing their best to save as many of them as they could. They looked downright exhausted but still kept going, for those people's sake. Silently, Starscream landed and deposed Metalhawk's body carefully next to the others.

With a last glance behind his shoulder that spoke of all the farewells he didn't feel like saying out loud, he departed immediately. He still needed to find a weapon.

OOOOo

 

It was chaotic, gruesome, desperate, but in the end they prevailed.

Megatron was thrown back in jail, along with his men, those who had survived at least. Starscream had been absolutely delighted at the sight of his ex-leader brought down on his knees, restrained by big lengths of chain. 

It was a good thing, Starscream mused, that he was now in the good guys' camp. It was a notorious fact that the good guys always prevailed on the evil ones. 

Not long ago, he would have been chained along with them, but today he was in the hero's side.

It was nothing else but a new way to reach the top, he promised himself as he gazed upon the ruins of his planet. Cybertron looked just a tad more wrecked than the junkyard it had been before Megatron's return. A lot of mechs were still between life and death, many of them would probably trespass, the others would have to heal fast; There was a lot to clean up and repair. The task would be a colossal one.

And then, when the biggest part of the damages would have been cleaned, they'd go back to their little game of politics, coalitions, and free elections. Starscream would be ready.

His own house hadn't been spared in the carnage and the proud white wings sticking out of the tower's top were tragically lying in pieces at its foot. So sad, the seeker thought, it had been such a beautiful house...built after his own, beautiful image.

Cleaning as much debris as he could from his interior which wasn't so cozy anymore, he found the symbol of his past- and future- glory.

The crown.

Soon, the seeker told himself as he dusted it, soon he'd find a new plan to become his world's supreme ruler...soon.

Now if only he could remove the memory of Metalhawk's kiss from his mind! No matter what he did, his thoughts always came back to that event, to that feeling of his friend's soft lips briefly touching his.

It was ridiculous how much this simple, impromptu and most likely accidental gesture haunted him.

After all, he'd been kissed many times in the past, he'd been kissed roughly, passionately, violently, sometimes even desperately...

...But never softly.

“Tschhh!” He growled lowly, embarrassed and angry with himself for entertaining such stupid thoughts. Metalhawk had been delirious with pain at that time, certainly he had never meant to...

“Starscream, are you at home?”

The seeker turned around so fast he almost dislodged his hip joint. There at the door stood the one mech he hadn't wanted to see. Wasn't that just wonderful?!

“Metalhawk...I..hmm...I am glad that you made such a rapid recovery,” he said, stuttering in embarrass. Oh he hated being caught unaware!

The neutral flier walked in and looked around at the damage in the seeker's house, “I was wondering why you were not at the reparation site with the others...” he commented, bending down to pick something from the floor. It was the small replica of his old F-15 alt mode, Starscream noticed and his optics immediately focused on that hand that was holding him by proxy. “...but I see that you have cleaning of your own to do.”

“Well...yes,” Starscream replied, not knowing what else to say.

“Dirge told me what you did during the fight, he's been talking about you in most laudatory therms, 'said that you fought quite fiercely against your ex- leader.” Metalhawk said, turning the action toy around in his hand. 

“I had old grudges to settle with that bucket-headed fool,” the seeker explained, his eyes still riveted on the mech's hand.

“Did you settle them?” Metalhawk asked as he approached at a slow, casual pace.

“I am here, now, am I not?” Starscream replied, taking an involuntary step back. “That proves whose camp I chose”

“And whose camp is that?” his friend was looking at him, straight in the optics.

“Mine, obviously.” The seeker said, not seeing why he shouldn't be honest about this. Metalhawk already knew how egoistical he truly was.

“Are you sure?” Metalhawk taunted, which made Starscream frown in confusion. “Well, yes,” he replied, not sure of where this was going. The other was very close now, almost close enough to...

“But you didn't fight alone, did you?” Metalhawk developed his argument, “you fought with Cybertronians who wanted the same things you want: Peace, freedom, abolition of the factions...You were, still are, in Cybertron's camp.”

He placed the figurine on a table nearby and directed his hand toward Starscream's shoulder, which made the seeker flinch slightly. “You know me, Metalhawk,” he shook his head and pulled his lips into a bitter smile, “I always think about my personal interests first...”

“Like when you protected all those people? Like when you took me to the infirmary? You did so for political reasons only?” His hand drifted lower and his other hand landed on Starscream's waist.

With the wall so close behind him, Starscream felt cornered. This, he thought, couldn't happen. If Jetfire had once taught him to never trust friendship, Megatron had done well in teaching him to never trust love. He wasn't going to fall victim of any of these concepts ever again, they mixed badly with ambition, too badly.

But Metalhawk's lips were on his again, and they were so damn soft and...oh, this was pleasantly different from anything he'd felt in the past...

So he let it happen. Offlining his optic sensors, he finally allowed himself to relax and appreciate the moment. He pulled the other that much closer to his frame and responded in kind.

Which one of them would end up betraying the other, Starscream didn't know. After all, nothing was fair in this life, so why should he worry about the future at the cost of ruining his present?

At some point, he didn't remember how, he'd found himself on his back among the debris of his wrecked apartment, moaning and groaning wantonly as Metalhawk slowly- oh so slowly- moved back and forth between his widely spread thighs.

He'd done that kind of things, many times in the past. He'd been taken roughly, passionately, violently, sometimes even desperately...

...But never slowly.

When overload hit, impossibly long and powerful, he found it absolutely amazing.

And, for the first time in his long life, he didn't even feel ashamed of his own scream. 

 

End.


End file.
